


Getup

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Anal Sex, Dresses, Established Relationship, Ficlet, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-29 17:12:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20800028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Prompto indulges one of Noctis’ whims.





	Getup

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Noctis clasps his hands in his lap, and with one deep breath, he quells his nerves. It was an awkward thing to ask, but he wasn’t judged for it—Prompto never judges him, except in that light, teasing way that young men do in jest. Now that it’s really happening, he wants to handle it well: wants to look cool and suave, like this is something he expected and deserves rather than a rare lewd fantasy he never thought he’d see. He wants Prompto to think he’s got it all together.

He hears the bathroom door crick open and the soft patter of bare footsteps across his linoleum floor. Prompto appears around the corner, spots Noctis, and hesitates. His arms fall stiffly down his sides, fingers tangling nervously in the loose hem of his skirt. Noctis _stares_, gaze sweeping up and down to take in _everything_.

It’s not that big a deal, really. It’s not a complicated outfit. As far as he knows, Prompto isn’t wearing panties underneath—it’s not like he’s wrapped up in a corset and wobbling in heels. There isn’t even any make up. It’s not really about that. Noctis isn’t sure if he wants Prompto to crossdress, whatever the technical definition of that is, he just wants Prompto in _a_ dress.

So he’s got Prompto in a skimpy, flimsy little sundress that the light shines right through. It’s late in the evening with his curtains wide open, the fading sun piercing right through the paper-thin fabric: Noctis can see the outline of Prompto’s narrow body, shapeless hips, and creamy thighs. He can see most of Prompto’s thighs anyway; the skirt’s ridiculously short. The top is cut low across his breast, held up with twin spaghetti straps. The chest area is ruched, the rest just wrinkled—Noctis could hardly ask Ignis to iron this one. It doesn’t matter. The dress looks perfect as it is. _Prompto_ looks perfect as he is. He’s insanely cute, standing there in the cheesy yellow-white floral print, pale against the rest of his peach skin. It helps that he’s blushing, which always makes his freckles stand out. His hair’s even brighter than the dress, his blue eyes wide and beautiful. Noctis is genuinely awe-stricken.

Prompto mutters, “I look stupid.”

“You don’t,” Noctis insists. “You look _amazing._” Prompto doesn’t look so sure, but Noctis insists, “It’s great, seriously. You’re the best boyfriend ever.”

A smile worms its way onto Prompto’s face. That seems to be all he needs—he finally comes forward, all the way to the edge of the couch, where he hikes one knee up and climbs into Noctis’ lap. Noctis’ hands eagerly fly to Prompto’s trim waist. The skirt stretches across and rides higher up Prompto’s thighs as he spreads them open, snuggling up close to Noctis’ body. His elbows fall to Noctis’ shoulders, his fingers threading through Noctis’ hair. He leans down but hesitates, and Noctis has to be the one to close the distance and seal the kiss. 

One kiss turns into two, three, a full on make out session complete with wandering hands and Prompto’s handsome body bucking into him, and then Noctis pulls back to mutter, “Did you do the other thing I asked?”

Blushing deep and grinning wide, Prompto nods. “Yeah. I’m all stretched, lubed up, and ready to go.”

“You’re awesome.”

Prompto laughs, and Noctis cuts it off with another kiss, a fiercer one—his tongue curling deep inside Prompto’s mouth as he feels his way under Prompto’s skirt. He smoothes along Prompto’s thighs, tracing up and down them a few times before he can bring himself to divert to his own crotch. He’s never opened his belt so fast. He digs his cock out with zero ceremony. It’s hard before it hits the air. Prompto lifts up on both knees, lightly shaking as Noctis pulls him into place. 

Just to be safe, Noctis tests the area he’s about to plunder—he dips one hand beneath Prompto’s cock and rubs between Prompto’s cheeks, finding and fingering his puckered hole. It dilates easily and drips onto Noctis’ index finger. He shudders and rubs it harder, popping in and feeling around—Prompto gasps and clenches around him, but he can slide in to the knuckle without too much resistance. Prompto whines a needy, “_Noct_,” and bucks into him. The dress does nothing to hide Prompto’s growing bulge. 

Noctis gives him another kiss and benevolently withdraws his fingers. It’s a bit messy lining them both up, because he’s quick to pull Prompto into place, but Prompto tries to position himself too, and the two of them clash a bit before they fall into sync. Then Noctis is pushing up while Prompto’s sliding down, moaning loud and swallowing him whole. It’s an exquisite burn that Noctis never tires of. He groans as Prompto squirms and writhes to the bottom. In short, staccato thrusts and wriggling circles, Prompto makes it to the very base. Noctis feels dizzy when he bottoms out—he has to clutch at Prompto’s hips and take a second to breathe. 

Slumping against him, Prompto hums, “Mm, easy access... I like.”

Noctis snorts and affectionately slaps Prompto’s ass. Without the support of any underwear, he can feel it jiggling more vividly. He cups it afterwards, squeezing and kneading the tender flesh as he adjusts. Prompto moans and grinds back and forth between Noctis’ body and hands. Then Noctis grunts, “Okay, _move_,” and slaps both round cheeks again.

Prompto groans, “Yes, sir!” With one shuddering gasp, he rises up, head tossing back as Noctis’ cock slides halfway out of him. Noctis grits his teeth and watches the skirt lift off his legs. A broken grunt, and Prompto drops back down, slamming onto Noctis’ lap with an audible smack. Noctis loves it. He moans his approval and bucks up into Prompto, encouraging more.

For the most part, Noctis doesn’t have to do much work—Prompto completely spoils him. He just gets to lie back in the couch and watch Prompto bounce up and down on his dick, the dress bouncing with it—Prompto works himself into a steady rhythm and rides Noctis’ cock in reckless ferocity. He fucks himself so hard that one of the straps tumbles down his shoulder, the top dipping with it to reveal one rosy nipple that Noctis is dying to suck on. He only resists because he’s played with Prompto’s tits before, but he’s never sat back and seen Prompto get fucked in a skirt. He wants to memorize every little detail of it. His eyes roam everywhere, his hands following, touching and squeezing, tugging at the dress in certain places and running beneath it in others. Prompto moans and gasps and grants Noctis entry everywhere. He melts in Noctis’ hands. He doesn’t even try to touch himself: just lets the silky fabric slide over his hard dick.

Noctis adores every second. Between long stares, he scatters Prompto in quick kisses. He palms Prompto’s hips and licks Prompto’s chest, making no effort to hold back his approving noises. He’s sure Prompto can feel exactly how much he loves and appreciates the experience—he feels like he’s never been so hard. 

He nears the end too soon and tries to hold back but struggles. Prompto’s too gorgeous. Prompto whines his name and clutches his shoulders, already looking fucked stupid. He works up a sweat so easily, always smells just sinful, and he’s irresistible when his blush spreads to his ears. His flushed chest rises and falls with each desperate pant, the ruffled hem across it offering such stunning contrast. Noctis could do this for hours. 

Noctis can’t even last ten minutes. He hits his end and groans when he comes, face ducking into Prompto’s throat to muffle the oncoming scream. He yanks Prompto tight against him, holds Prompto down, and grinds his cock against Prompto’s glorious inner walls. He’s so grateful they’ve been together long enough and gained enough trust to go without a condom. His fists clamp tight enough in the dress to almost rip it. He can feel Prompto trembling around him and absolutely _loves it._

He loves Prompto. He paints Prompto’s insides with one spurt after another, and as soon as he gains the wherewithal, he shoves his hand under Prompto’s skirt and starts furiously jerking Prompto off. Prompto cries out but comes as easily as always, bursting in Noctis’ hand within a few strokes. It doesn’t matter that his seed’s splattering the dress. Noctis wants it sticky and ruined. He wants to have to buy Prompto another one, maybe an even sheerer one, with black lace and pink trim. He wants to dress Prompto up in all sorts of things and tear them all off again. 

He lets Prompto collapse in his arms when it’s over. Prompto’s heavy but welcome. His skin is burning, body hot. Prompto mumbles affectionately, “You’re weird sometimes, dude.”

“’S just a dress,” Noctis grunts. It’s not a big deal. He could honestly go so much farther. And he probably will. 

He reaches over Prompto to get the camera off the coffee table, but he passes it to Prompto to check the recording. Prompto mutters sheepishly, “Almost forgot about that...”

“I didn’t. I’m gonna watch it over and over again until the next time we do this.”

“Next time?”

“Yeah. That okay?”

Prompto grins and clenches around Noctis’ cock, flagging but still trapped inside him. Noctis shudders and groans. He thinks he can tell the answer.

Prompto voices anyway, “Y’know I’d do anything for you.”

Noctis gets another kiss and the best boyfriend he could ask for.


End file.
